An Error in Your Favor
by White Shade
Summary: Since writing Undertaker's Wife, I've decided to create a story about their background and how these two met. Vivian has a chance encounter with a pre-retired Undertaker. And everything was going so well too...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The sound of the bell used to excite him. It was a moment in which he knew it was time to emerge from the coffin, freak some passerbys out a little bit, and carry on his usual day. Retiring from the reaper's association in about five years wasn't turning out to be such a bad decision. Ever since he'd sent Marie to hell, there wasn't much left he felt he could be known for.

More recently, Undertaker had discovered a quiet little shop up for lease, empty on the corner of a rather busy street. His fascination with death had never ceased, and perhaps it was a bit unsettling, even for a grim reaper. He thought it would only be suitable to run a coffin shop on that lovely corner in the dead of London. In retirement, there had to be something to keep his mind going...what was left of it.

"Only a half of a decade left? Unbelievable you!" a fellow reaper, Edward was his name, was trailing alongside him.

"I think it's a suitable time," Undertaker replied as they walked to the library to add their souls to the collection. His hair had nearly turned completely white, but as he stared at his death scythe, he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his chest.

"You'll miss it too much," Edward nudged him. "And I'm gonna miss having you around."

"Oh I'm sure you'll find your way. I hear there's some promising new reapers under your jurisdiction."

"Huh? Oh, yeah! The trainees!" Edward exclaimed. "I've got good ones in this lot this time around. One of 'im is a fancy red head. Getting straight As in practical skills he is."

"Ah, those are most important," Undertaker said.

"And one of 'em, it's the strangest thing. Gets a B on everything. Literally, everything he's ever done. Creeps me out a little, that one. He's almost the definition of the word neutral."

"Neutrality is necessary," Undertaker said, adding his cinematic records to the shelves. One in particular caught his eye.

"Hey, isn't that Robin Hood's record?" Edward exclaimed. Undertaker smirked.

"It might be."

"I've been trying to get my hands on that for weeks! How did you get it? I kept calling the library, asking if they had it."

"I neglected to return it," Undertaker confessed. "I just love a good story like that."

Edward's face turned white as a ghostly sheet. All this time and he probably could have just asked Undertaker to loan it to him.

"So it's months late?"

"Maybe, but I was the one who collected it in the first place."

Edward rolled his eyes. By now, he should have expected this of his eccentric friend. Late library books, as usual. Either way, he snatched the record and checked it out as soon as possible. As in, the moment Undertaker put it back on the shelf. After pushing up his spectacles, Undertaker told Edward not to wait up for him. He was off covering for another reaper on soul collection tonight.

"Get some sleep, will you?" Edward said before parting ways.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Undertaker smiled in reply.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The deadly silence of a night in the streets of London casted a certain flare within Undertaker's body as he took a quiet run upon the rooftops of the east end. Queen Victoria's reign had been in effect for a few years now, but Undertaker never noticed the difference in the monarchs, except their personal interests.

Only the reaper's association had anything pertaining to him and his work. For example, they were beginning to branch out, assigning managers and master to each division for each country on the continent and of course, there were two on the islands. Undertaker remained in England's branch, finding it the most homey of places, and it was the best place for soul collections.

His death scythe never let him down, never once. As he eagerly collected his records, there was but one left. A girl named Vivian Addams, set to die by suicide tonight, in approximately 15 minutes. Making his way to the location of a back alley, something didn't seem right. There was nothing but a window cracked open as far as his eyes could see. Assuming the cracked window would open further, Undertaker waited for the girl appear where the To Die list was displaying.

But the girl did not appear, upon which sent Undertaker in a slight displacement. He searched the next street, for surely he hadn't gotten the location incorrect. According to his list, this girl should have been dead by now, but there wasn't even a body to be found. Being distraught was getting him no closer to solving the situation properly, so he climbed upon the rooftops for the second time, peering through the window.

A girl did in fact slumber in the bed within the room. Her hair was black as a raven's feathers and her skin was pale as Snow White's. This was Vivian Addams, and she clearly was not jumping off of the rooftop tonight.

Her room was rather plain, but that seemed to be a financial issue and of no fault to her. There was a simple vase with a wash towel and bowl, as though she were pretending to live on higher standards. Standards upon which she would never be able to afford. The fire only left behind embers, coal and ash, as it was that time of the evening. Almost time for his shift to be over with.

There was no contacting the association as of right now, but they never made errors and they never questioned the lists. How was this possible? Was her heart about to fail? Was she killing herself in her sleep, what? Something had to happen! Her soul was scheduled for collection five minutes ago.

Intrigued by the matter, Undertaker set his scythe near the fire, putting his outgrowing bangs in front of his eyes. He didn't want to alarm the girl, as she seemed so peaceful in her sleep, but this was a rather important matter. Subtly, he tapped at her shoulder, but the girl did not wake up. There was no one else in sight, so he'd have to take this up with her personally, as was his report's request and regulation.

"Pardon the intrusion," he said, shaking her with both hands now. "I do require your assistance, Miss Vivian Addams."

"What the hell?" the girl's voice wasn't at all as she appeared or as he expected it to be. "What do you want?"

"It's a matter concerning your soul," he said, sitting on the bedside. "I suggest you wake up before I improvise."

Vivian's eyes split themselves open as she sat up, revealing them to be alert, annoyed, and ready to kill someone herself. The bright blue caught him off guard, but she could not see his eyes. A frown came upon his face as she put on her black glasses to see better.

When the sheets were pulled back, he noticed a stitched area upon her neckline, a blue stitching, not at all matching her eyes or the silver color of her nightwear.

"Who are you and what are you telling me about my soul?" she asked, flinging the covers back.

"You were scheduled to die tonight, why the hell didn't you jump?" Undertaker asked. "You were supposed to commit suicide."

"Don't tell me what I'm _supposed _to do. I changed my mind. Get over it," Vivian's response was most riveting. It sent a tingle through his body from his neck, all the way down through his spinal cord. This was most fascinating. Her eyes wandered to the death scythe that was situated near her fireplace. She looked to him, then back at the scythe.

"A...grim reaper?" she asked slowly, bringing her legs around so she could sit beside him. Adjusting her long black hair to sit upon her shoulders and extend to her knees, Vivian scanned him. "Quite a fancy aren't you?"

"It's regulation," he said. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Get over it," she said. "I'm not dying tonight, I'm not dead, why are you here?"

"You were scheduled to die."

"Well then I just changed the schedule didn't I?" she said, her eyebrows rising. "I'll die when I deem it appropriate. Not when God tells me to die."

A smirk graced Undertaker's face. "That's a slight problem for me. I was scheduled to collect your soul, and tonight, I was supposed to take it. You're not at Death's door, therefore I cannot act, but it will complicate matters. The list is never wrong."

"So now what? You babysit me until I die?" Vivian asked, stretching. "Fun."

"I admit it's tempting to do so. My lists have been flawless so it seemed you would be no different. Yet, here you are."

"Nice scythe. Are they all that nice?" Vivian asked, pushing up her glasses. Undertaker sighed, slightly annoyed already with the girl's questions.

"That? No, that one is just mine. Each is different, but I suppose they all possess charm to some extent," he replied. "You're 19 years old, aren't you afraid of me?"

"I'm not dying, you can't take my soul so, no not really. I'm curious at best, meeting a divine one such as yourself," Vivian said. "You seem to know a hell of a lot about me, so why can't I know anything about you?"

"Knowing about me is dangerous, my dear," Undertaker said. "You were not supposed to see me until you die."

"Well then, considering you woke me up, I'd say that's your fault then," she stated plainly.

"Perhaps," Undertaker said. "But my list is absolute. I suspected you to be dead."

Vivian stood up, walking over the scythe where Undertaker cut her off, stating strictly she could not touch it.

"Fine," she said. "Can I touch you?"

"Me?" he asked, looking at himself, sighing. "I'm already on overtime, why the hell not?"

"Cool," she said, reaching for his hair to run her fingers through it. "It's nearly snow white. What does that mean for a reaper?"

"It means I've been at this too long," Undertaker said as she brought up a second hand.

"So it's like a job then? Collecting our souls?"

"It's more than a job, it's a lifestyle," Undertaker said. He knew his information wouldn't harm her, for no one would ever believe she'd had a run in with a grim reaper, much less hear what she had to say about it.

They stood mostly in silence as he felt her doing something to his hair. He hadn't the slightest idea what because he couldn't see, but as annoying as the circumstance was, she either died tonight anyway or he had to report a special case upon his return and explain the overtime. It was one of the most enjoyable overtimes he could have asked for, so although he couldn't take this matter lightly, he couldn't help but enjoy the moment.

"I hope I didn't mess you up too badly," Vivian confessed with a gentle sigh. "I'd hate to have Death annoyed with my soul." Her eyes were fixated upon his hair, but Undertaker realized she was sincere. This was the first time any mortal had ever opened themselves to the possibility of their afterlife and known about the process of soul collection. Yet the first thing coming out of her mouth was an apology of inconvenience! How considerate.

A frown came upon his face. "It is no fault of yours. If you are not dying tonight, I should not be here." The thought dawned upon him. He shouldn't be here! Period. Why hadn't he left yet? As soon as she opened her eyes, he should have left because clearly, she wasn't dead or dying as was written. Why did he stay and allow himself to be annoyed by a mortal?

"Then...why are you still here?" Vivian asked, tying off her handy work.

She brought up a mirror to display the braid that was sitting upon Undertaker's right shoulder as of this moment. She'd chosen to tie an inner portion of his hair, so the braid was easily hidden by the rest of his longer hair. However, he chose not to hide it in her presence. That would be rather rude, so to make things even he brought up the other side to hang upon his other shoulder.

"I think you ask too many questions," he told her, taking his death scythe. She smiled, once again scanning his thin form up and down.

"Well, this was fun," she said. "It's not everyday I have the chance to meet a grim reaper."

"Consider it a once in a lifetime thing," Undertaker said, turning to leave.

"A twice in a lifetime thing now," she corrected. "For, isn't my death also a part of my life? Perhaps one of the most important parts of my life to say the least? Isn't how I die a defining moment of how I lived?"

Undertaker turned back, hearing the way she spoke with such compassion about death itself, it was almost unnatural. Unnatural and intriguing.

"I didn't take my own life because I thought that was too easy. I knew I wanted to, but to die in a way most honorable to my life, that's what I wanted more. I didn't want it to be known that I'd taken a route so expected for one of my stature. To hell with it! No one tells me how to die, at least leave me that," Vivian said, as though near to being upset and angry with powers higher than her control.

Undertaker faced her, setting his most precious scythe down for the second time, seeing her shaken form after the words had escaped her mouth. This was different, she was different, and the ways she thought about death had never come across in any cinematic record he'd reviewed, ever. Of course, Vivian was still a lady living in London in the time of Victoria's reign. Her views would not matter, especially upon the matters of her death, which Undertaker found to be a great shame. No one could possibly know she thought this way.

Taking a deep breath, Undertaker wrapped his arms around the girl, finally seeing her first tear flow from her eyelids, washing up upon his jacket sleeve.

"I'm not here to tell you how to die, only how you _should_ have died," Undertaker explained. "Everything will clear up I'm sure."

"Will you come back when I actually die?" she asked.

"I cannot answer that," Undertaker replied, knowing that unless she died within five years, that answer would be no. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that, not after what had just happened. She seemed grateful for his company, despite what he was. He'd known her well, as she stated previously. Maybe that's what she needed. Maybe there was a higher power at work here. Sending him to the site, knowing of the change to become acquainted with this mortal, that sounded like the work of someone on high keeping a secret agenda.

How long could they expect to keep it? The soul collection was false, it was incomplete, it could not happen. Surely that would cause some dissonance on high somewhere.

"Good night then," Vivian said, letting him go as she broke from his grasp. "Good night to you, Mr. Reaper."

"Good night, Miss Addams," Undertaker replied, taking the scythe and climbing out the window where she stuck her head out.

"Thank you," she said before he disappeared into the night amongst the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Incomplete soul collection, I'm here to announce the list is wrong," Undertaker waltzed his way into the library where the reaper currently on staff gave him a strange look.

"How so?"

"The target was not in position as what written in her place on the To Die list," Undertaker pointed to the girl's name and explained she had not committed suicide but was rather unharmed, sleeping in her bed five minutes passed the time of her collection.

"Do you have proof she's alive or that she was not there?" the lady asked. Undertaker thought for a moment, then let down the piece of his hair she braided in.

"I had a complete conversation with her," Undertaker replied, showing off her work upon his white hair. The lady looked at the braid and took out a form for him to fill out, which he did so right away so he could finally clock out for the night. The rest of the records were there as expected, and this was the first time he'd stated there was a problem.

"Any divine interventions?" the lady asked before he handed her the form.

"None other than myself, at least none that I'm aware of. She has a pulse, Miss Veronica. She's not dead, she changed her mind about the suicide, and not by my intervention. The mortal did this on her own. You would think those on high would have included this twist of her fate..."

"We do not ask questions," the receptionist said, taking the form. "Good night to you."

"Bye," Undertaker said, retiring for the night.

Vivian sat upon her bed, wondering just how great of an impact she'd had upon her own fates. A grim reaper had come for her! She was supposed to die. Was it only a change of thought that had prevented God's great tapestry of all things living? For so long, she'd suspected God expected her to change her mind or knew she would not commit suicide tonight. There were greater forces, she knew, but to have met a reaper and tell the tale, well, that was entirely different matter.

The grim reaper was not at all what she'd expected. A large figure in a black cloak with a hood and an old, rusted scythe seemed to be the popular picture. His scythe was different, sure it was a scythe but it wasn't like she expected it to look. It was old, but by no means was it rusted out. In fact, it had been the opposite, a rather glimmering shine next to the fire with old bones as a decoration.

Sighing numerous times, Vivian had realized she'd already become quite attached to the one who was here to collect her soul, and she didn't even know his name. His stay was been longer than previously anticipated, that is, if she could ever anticipate a deity such as himself in her own home. For a few moments, she denied the meeting ever happened, but after her touching his hair, braiding it all the way down to where his stomach would be (if grim reapers even had to eat), Vivian convinced herself the entire thing was real.

Not a single hair remained, but vaguely his presence began to linger, even as the wind graced through her bedroom. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Vivian tightened her stitchings, barely flinching. He too, had acquired a scar upon his face, but his hair was hiding the rest of what could be shown. Then again, had it been up for show, would Vivian even have the guts to look him in the eyes? To literally stare Death in the face and tell him she would not die yet and that the entire system of his To Die list, that was built into her beliefs as well, was wrong?

The question brooded within her mind, consuming her entire night as she stared out the window, wondering if she'd ever see the grim reaper again.

The shop was coming along most nicely, even Undertaker had to admit as he admired its beauty. The coffins were to arrive the next week and he would be open for part time business. Besides reaping, Undertaker knew there was a long way left and there was plenty of life to live, at least for himself. He could not say the same for his guests, whom would be arriving next week as well.

The Underworld is a mysterious place for those who are unfamiliar, but this job would surely satisfy him in his retirement. Working for the dead was what Undertaker did best, and as he shuffled his way through the door, he set up the desktop, placing upon it a nice old skull and a few ink bottles with black quills. Certainly, this was going to be so much fun!

A good night's reaping continued for the following weeks. The list was flawless, but Undertaker found himself questioning upon nearly every soul. Something wasn't right, and for once, the system was not absolute. Jams and tough decisions were normally a regular circumstance, but none of those complications pertained to an incorrect listing. Never. As he walked through the streets, cinematic records in hand, a splashing sound captured his complete attention.

Looking up, he realized who he was near.

"The soul whose fate remains unseen," Undertaker said. "You've finally come out from your hiding place." He turned around to face the girl, her hair still dark at the raven's feather and her eyes a piercing blue, reaching through his bangs and straight into his eyes, all without her knowing the power she seemed to wield.

"I didn't expect to see you."

"I didn't expect you to see me either, but here we are," Undertaker replied. "What is it you want?"

"I wanted to see you," Vivian said, unable to find the courage to take another step.

"Then I think," Undertaker said. "You got your wish." He began to walk away, get on with his night, and forget about this whole thing. Despite Vivian's constant presence in his mind since that dreadfully wonderful night, Undertaker knew this could never be, even if he wanted it to. Mortals and reapers can not coexist, it would be the very downfall of Death itself. There were no exceptions.

"That isn't what I meant," Vivian said, ever surprising him as he found himself once again turning back to face the girl.

"I want to _see_ you," she repeated. "I want...to look you in the eyes."

"Now you want to stare Death in the face? Don't mock me," Undertaker stated, turning away once again. It was best to let this down now. It was obvious she didn't mean to mock him, it was in her tone and Undertaker knew that. He'd chosen to take this the wrong way on purpose, however he was unsure if she'd take this bait.

"I'm not the one who came into someone else's bedroom, telling them they were supposed to die and how to do it for the purpose of an occupational description of soul collection," Vivian said. "If that's not mocking Death I don't know what is."

His white hair swung forth in front of his shoulders as he violently turned to face her for what he wanted to be the last time. Pushing up his spectacles, he whipped his bangs back, but he held his death scythe to her throat. Their eyes met, finally for her first time! She did not quarrel or even melt down, willing to give up her soul. Vivian's stare pierced him, but his eyes met her with the same challenge. She knew he would not swing his scythe. His bangs fell to the sides of his face, parting, but Vivian noted the braid still resting within the rest of his hair. It hung for all before him to see, and a small smile came upon her face.

Vivian knew what was going on. Divine beings or not, the looks upon their faces didn't seem too different from a human's. With her left hand, she slowly lowered his death scythe and walked past it.

"You continually defy the systems the govern your everyday life before me, yet any other day, you follow them as expected," Undertaker said. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"You know what I think about those systems. No one tells me how I'm going to die," Vivian replied, smirking as her black hair whisked back in the wind. "Get over it."

"If only I could," he replied, dropping the scythe so it clanked against the rubble of the back alley street. The cloudy night formed itself into rain droplets, but before the first drop could hit her face, Undertaker took hold of her waistline with one arm and wrapped his other hand around her face, kissing her so fiercely he nearly had to hold her in place.

Vivian herself wrapped her arms around his neck, completely losing herself in this moment. She could taste the cold rain as it moistened Undertaker's dry lips, and the rain had never tasted better!

Her flesh was surprisingly cold for a mortal's, tasting of peppermints and refreshing rainwater as it hit her face, trying to cut between them and failing until they chose to break apart. The mind of Undertaker swung violently back and forth, contemplating the next move, if there was a next move. He'd just succumb to all urges, despite the knowledge of his demise if anyone found out. Well, perhaps not. It wasn't as if she were another immortal or they were married legally. Nothing would come of this, nothing could for the sake of these final few years.

But that kiss could not have been any more stimulating or revering. Breaking apart seemed unbearable but necessary for the first few moments. Vivian's eyes narrowed and he saw the smile creeping, tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I knew it," she said confidently, pulling back a portion of his white bangs to reveal his fluorescent green eyes.

Undertaker pushed back, letting his hair fall back into its place and he picked up his death scythe, leaving it to rest at his side. The sensation felt natural and most familiar. Sighing, he knew there was no running now. The chances of running into this girl on soul collections was slim, but if she'd already found him once, what was to stop her from doing so again? Vivian was most interesting.

"You defied your beliefs the moment you were given proof of error. You recognize the ways are not perfect, even in death," Undertaker stated. "Since I confirmed it for you, you've done nothing but change your outlook. I say, most impressive."

Vivian stood firm, suppressing the urge in her body and soul to jump back into his arms.

"I don't even know your name," Vivian said. "I suppose your name is insignificant so long as I have something to call you. Any preferences?" She was already assuming their meetings would not stop here. Surely, if this continued, Vivian's prophecy may actually come to pass.

"Andiekia," he stated. Vivian's eyebrow rose.

"Undertaker?" she replied. She was quick. "That makes sense, if I need to call out to you."

"What kind of human are you? Defying your religion, seeking those who bring death-"

"I do not seek those who bring death," Vivian interrupted. "I seek you."

"I bring death."

"Not to me," she said. "I broke your system. And if that braid does not mean you seek me, it must mean I'm not the only one wanting something that a law I've already defied says I cannot have." Undertaker knew of ways she could have this, but those doors would remain closed to Vivian.

"That is why I like you," Undertaker confessed. Vivian walked closer to him, leaning against his shoulder as a strike of thunder pierced the clouds. She put her arms around his form, this time with no reciprocation.

"I feel safe with you," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Now that my dear, is dangerous," he warned, wrapping his left arm around her form.

"Good night," Vivian said. "I hope I'll see you again." She broke their contact, walking through the back door of her home, leaving him to finish collections for the night.

The collections, after compilation and checking them into the library, brought Undertaker's shift to a close. On his way to the shop to make a few final touches, he peered through Vivian's bedroom window where she sat by the burning embers, staring blankly into the fire, thinking.

During her brood, Undertaker slipped inside, placing a card onto her end table beside the bed, letting the wind catch her attention. But, as she looked back, Undertaker was no where to be found. Just the card, leaning against her lamp, which she retrieved immediately. Looking out the window, Vivian caught glimpse of his long white hair, smiling to herself as he disappeared.

_Undertaker _the card read, with an address printed on the back. It looked like a business card...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Immediately the next day, Vivian made her way to the address printed on the back of the card. The door was open, but there was no one inside. Surely this was a joke. Then again, the sign in the front said the shop wasn't in business for another half an hour.

"Hello?" she asked into the open air, walking into the front room. Upon the desk, there sat a note, which out of her own curiosity she read for herself.

_Vivian,_

_I suspected you would find this. Naughty naughty, reading that which may not be yours. Luckily for you, this is. If you so choose, please study the manual in the lower left drawer. This shop is set to open today, and my arrival will be slightly delayed. I shall pay for your services once I return._

_Lo-_

_Signed,_

_Undertaker_

What the hell?! He expected her to run the shop on its opening day? She didn't even know what to say to people when they walked in! Her hands reached for the manuel and she opened it to the contents, wishing she had arrived much sooner than this, despite the fact that this was not her responsibility in the first place.

Well, if he was offering to pay her, she supposed it couldn't be too bad, right?

Her eyes were glued to the manuel as she read about the services offered in the shop as well as a list of inventory. There was also a guest check and a large pad of paper for taking out orders. However, the phone contained no references. There was no one else to call for any of the coffins to have them shipped over. This was most strange to her, but Vivian just kept her mind on learning the qualities and marking pages in the reference book. Obviously, she would have to explain she was a last minute recruit for the shop and the owner was only out briefly for the day.

Of course, Vivian did not know when exactly Undertaker would return. He only said he was "slightly delayed." Within the half an hour, Vivian had familiarized herself with the organization system Undertaker had set up (which was all right for the time being, admittedly), she knew what was in the inventory and mostly what each coffin could offer. The prices were marked in the manuel and there were a few prices marked on the special coffins near the back of the shop.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the clock as the shop became officially open for business. Until someone showed up at the door, Vivian stared into the book, hoping to familiarize herself at the very least briefly with the content. The manuel itself was thick, and she knew it was not meant to be learned in one day.

The bell sound surprised her as a man walked in.

"Good morning, Sir," she greeted. "What I can do for you?"

"I need a coffin big enough for two," he said. Vivian recognized him as a priest, possibly from one of the churches around the block. "Their service is being held next week."

"All right," Vivian said. "We've got a few options in the store..." she showed him the ones in the store, saying they could be customized. She also mentioned the store would also prep bodies and throw in a free set of flowers meant for beside the grave.

The priest looked around for a while as Vivian read the manuel, giving him a listing of the prices in case he wanted to take a copy.

"I think this one will do," he said, choosing a large coffin made of the finest oak, and as long as he was willing to the pay the price, Vivian didn't mind at all.

"I will bring the bodies in tomorrow," the priest said, leaving his name, the names of the deceased, and the church phone number in her hands. "I trust they will be delivered within the week?"

"Of course," Vivian said, taking that note down as well. He paid for his selection, taking it with him in the carriage he'd taken, observing the shop on his way out. She thanked him for his business and sighed with relief as the shop door closed.

For the rest of the afternoon, there was hardly anyone. A few came by to look, but there were no more sales for the afternoon. Vivian felt responsible, but slightly annoyed that the responsibility just fell to her because Undertaker knew she would show up. It was already the afternoon! The shop would close in a matter of hours. Vivian was hungry, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't just leave the shop unattended!

Where the hell was he? He better be making a trip to hell and back if she was stuck running a shop all day. Every time the bell rang, her head jerked up, hoping it was Undertaker.

"I apologize," Vivian said when someone asked for her manager. "I'm only part time, and the owner is out. I can take a name and number and have him call you..." She only handed him a card, and upon his leave, he gave her a cold stare. She paid no mind, reading her manuel once more, now out of boredom.

The shop's closing for the day meant she locked the doors with the spare key she found lying on the desk. She kept it with her in the safest place she could think of...between her average sized breasts.

She was pissed! Undertaker was not "slightly delayed," he was out the entire day. Since there hadn't been a word between them, Vivian figured to just leave and show up to the shop tomorrow, in case he was "slightly delayed" again. It was better than what she'd been doing most days anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The back door bursted open and an exhausted grim reaper walked in, ready for his coffin. Undertaker yawned, and he was happy to be over with this job in a few years. As he came into the back of the shop, he found his note that he'd left this morning...THIS MORNING!

He knew he'd forgotten about something important. On his break period he was supposed to check into the shop and see how Vivian was fairing.

This was bad, very bad. He'd become caught up taking overtime. The shop was opening today and he remembered that, but for some reason, he thought the hours were later. This was far from prepared and for him, this was unacceptable. His eyes jolted open and a second wind bursted through his chest. He took his death scythe and high tailed to Vivian's house.

As expected, she was asleep in her bed. Leaving another note, he contemplated. He thought it would serve as a start, and he introduced it with an apology in addition to an explanation of his late night, hoping it would suffice. If she used this against him for the rest of time, he would be disdained of her, a mortal!

He wrote a second portion of the note for her to read later, perhaps after she'd read the first one. He lay the notes upon her end table, looking at her sleeping there already. The bed was large enough...he could...

Shaking his head, the thought did not cease. God forbid if anyone in the house would see him. He wasn't sure if that was worth the risk. Ah! he promised to pay her for her services. Digging through his pockets, he found a silver chain, and he knew it was purely silver. Deeper in those pockets of his, he dug up a crystal, attaching it to the chain in a diamond shape, which he shaped with his death scythe right in front of her, not that she noticed.

He lay that upon the end table, adding to the first note her payment. Money wasn't of interest of him, not for a while. The reaper business paid him well, but pay day was next week, not this time around. Surely this would be enough. There were many curious items in his pockets, but he was unsure of where most of it came from. It was never stolen, only found, and he knew that much.

Vivian's slumbering form tempted him to give in to kissing her on the forehead. She'd done a lot for him already, running the shop for a whole day. He spotted the manuel on the side of her table, and she'd been reading it diligently. Taking his leave, he heard her voice.

"A slight delay?" she asked, tensing her body.

"My apologies," Undertaker said. "Soul collection can be...complicated."

Vivian was silent for a few moments. "You have an order and list of purchases sitting on the desk."

Undertaker was actually surprised of this report, considering he just opened the shop. Well, she'd been there all day, but he did leave the door open for her.

"You are upset," he said. "I understand."

"I'm surprised you showed up at all," Vivian replied. "Either way, you must be exhausted." She yawned herself, but Undertaker could hear the resentment in her tone.

"This will not happen again," he told her, walking over to the bed, sitting upon the end. "Face me." Vivian refused at first, for she was just mad...and disappointed in him.

Her body turned slowly with slight resentment still, facing Undertaker and noting the position of his death scythe against the bedpost. Swallowing hard, Vivian sighed, awaiting whatever it was he was looking to tell her. First, he leaned himself in to kiss her, which she somewhat accepted. She returned the kiss to be sure, but she was still upset, that much was clear. Undertaker gave into his mind, and suddenly his body began to follow after the kiss was broken.

"Did you go to hell?" she asked as he lay down beside her. His head turned, allowing his bangs to fall so Vivian could catch a glimpse of those green eyes. Irresistible, when she wasn't upset with him.

"Actually, I did," he replied. "Demons are most bothersome creatures."

"What do they do?" she asked.

"They eat souls, sometimes before we can get to them," Undertaker replied as his muscles began to sink down into the bed.

Vivian thought about letting this whole incident go, but a part of her didn't want to do that, let him off so easily. As she remained upset, Undertaker began to relax, realizing he was far more tired than he'd previously thought. Vivian watched as he closed his eyes, still cognitively aware but not as much. Smirking, she looked to her nightstand where she discovered the notes and the crystal on the silver chain.

Glancing back to him as she read the first note, she knew he felt sorry about what had happened, seeing the error in his ways and seeking to mend it. He would, eventually, but she knew this would take time. She'd sought him and he replied, there must be a reason for it. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Of course! Had no one been there this morning, the shop would have gone completely downhill. Whatever the reaper had been busy with, no one could have kept an eye on the shop. She had, and Undertaker would not soon forget that. He knew the shop was opening today but distractions, distractions. Vivian wondered how she cut through all the noise of his busy schedule, whatever that schedule was exactly. Although she'd brought his system to a halt, that didn't mean he had to stay. No, he had to be staying with her on his own accord.

For a few more moments, she watched him slumbering beside her. Reapers did need sleep, that's what she'd gathered and the first note reaffirmed. She caught sight of the braid still tied off tightly in his hair and that made her smile, if only slightly.

Yes, she was in love with a grim reaper.

Upon her gentle waking, Vivian's body stretched and turned until she hit something beside herself. At first, her body jolted back to her spot, but as her mind came around, she had a guess as to who it might be. Surprised that no one had come to wake her yet, the girl yawned, leaning back into the bed, unwilling to wake up. However, there was enough energy in her to turn onto her other side, only to see Undertaker still next to her.

Something was rather odd about the way he was sleeping. That's it! His chest wasn't moving. For a moment, her eyes furrowed, confused. Bringing her hand to his neck, there was the problem. Undertaker had no pulse!

She shook him a few times, worried over what might have happened overnight while she slept. There wasn't a single wound anywhere on his body, so what the hell could have happened? After a few minutes, the reaper came around, opening his eyes and hissing against the sunlight after so many years of sleeping in a coffin.

Vivian sprang up, closing her curtains to shut the light out and rushed back to him.

"What the hell!" she exclaimed, trying to use a whisper in case someone was awake. "You weren't breathing!"

Undertaker moaned a little, already not accustomed to having someone next to him straight away, first thing in the morning.

"Yes, that happens," Undertaker replied, rolling over to face away from her. "I _am_ a reaper."

"So, when reapers fall asleep, they suddenly stop breathing?" Vivian asked.

"Yes, eternal slumber," Undertaker said, keeping his phrases short. She sensed his annoyance, but she was worried and thus did not regret waking him in the slightest.

"Okay, Okay," Vivian said, stepping down. "Do remember whose room you're in, though. My siblings will be up any moment, and I'm surprised my parents haven't come to wake me already."

Keeping the room in a dim light made waking up slightly more difficult than usual for herself, but it didn't help any that Undertaker didn't move an inch as she got ready for the day.

Vivian still had a life to lead, while Undertaker didn't even have to work tonight. He was going to oversee the shop today and Vivian was going to make sure of it. After getting him out of bed and out of her room, she met with him after breakfast down in his shop, explaining it off to her family that she may have found a new job. They were delighted of course, and Undertaker had indeed paid her, though she was hoping for actual money in the future.

"Am I working here or not?" she confronted him during lunch today. She was the only one eating. Undertaker was taking care of price adjustments, seemingly avoiding the subject altogether about her current employment status. With each pressing question she asked pretty much the same thing, and eventually, she'd need an answer.

"You are a difficult one," Undertaker said, playing with the end of his new cauldron he'd just set on top of a new coffin.. "Your soul may cause some trouble." Well, if they were changing the subject, two could play at that game.

"Very nice," she replied. "Hey, if I get sick and start spewing my guts all over the place, will you catch whatever disease I have?" Undertaker looked up at her this time.

"Depends on the disease," Undertaker replied, ceasing the cauldron's movement. "If it's a flu, no I will not. If it's the Black Death, I just might."

"The Plague affects grim reapers?" Vivian asked, packing up the lunch she could no longer focus on eating. She stood up, organizing a shelf of paper, ink, and paint brushes.

"Oh yes," he replied. "About one third of the entire population was wiped out. It was a busy few years for me. Only 15 reapers died, but staff was low enough as it was. We found a way to combat the disease, not that we could tell the humans. We are, after all, somewhat of divine beings."

"So I see," Vivian said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The second letter she had received had not been touched until later that evening. She'd left Undertaker to close the shop, having no desire or urge to kiss or even touch him upon her exit. Still slightly upset over what happened yesterday and his beating around the bush today, Vivian could only hope she was actually securing herself a job rather than wasting time.

She sat upon her bed, reading the second letter, which explained his retirement in five years and few other points about the grim reapers. Figuring Undertaker was going about his work as usual, Vivian tried to think about what she was doing. This was a divine being, and such a relationship was most likely uncalled for. In mortal years, she wasn't even sure how Undertaker would add up. Obviously he was a much older man, but she wondered that if she'd re-proportioned his reaper life what his age would be in mortal years.

Coming back to the shop over and over was her weakest link. No matter what she did, there was no getting a straight answer from him concerning anything he didn't want to talk about, so she tried making it a point to change her subjects often. Some days, she wouldn't speak to him and other days, the shop was all her own.

Upon the end of the week, Undertaker always left something on his desk for her. Money was something he didn't have much of, but once and a while there were a good number of bills on the desk for her. Most of the time though, it was material items like clothing, jewelry, or food. Trying to ask him where he acquired such items was beyond attempt, for she was starting to predict his answers fairly accurately.

"You're in some deep thought today," Undertaker noted. It was another day off from reaping so he was around full time to manage the shop with her as she was cleaning around the coffins and restocking items in the lobby area like the tea.

Vivian turned to face him, only to be met with his white bangs hanging in front of his face even though she knew what was beneath them. She couldn't face it, and her body turned back to what she was doing. Undertaker stood up, dropping the pen he'd been writing with for some time. Before moving to the next order, he made his way over to her, but she seemed to enjoy ignoring him when he tried getting her to talk.

"What's bothering you?" he asked again, this time wrapping his arms around her, hoping it would improve the situation, if only slightly, to get her talking. Vivian stopped everything and her body began to shake.

"Promise me...promise me that five years is the end and that after that-" she was unable to finish the sentence, as her body began to shake even more violently and her eyes welled up with tears. Perhaps she'd been thinking about this much to long. Undertaker held her tighter, helping her to stand upright. Spinning her around, he finally saw she was far more upset than she'd been letting on.

This was too much for her. Humans relied on money, which Undertaker could care less about. After everything he'd given her, she hadn't sold one thing to make a profit. She wore the dresses and the necklaces to work so she didn't look like she was from the east end of the city. Within a few weeks of time, Vivian had started a wardrobe fit for a noble along with one crystalized necklace.

"My goodness," he said, taking a long sleeve from the arm of his hooded cloak and wiping her eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

Vivian did not reply, but she sucked up her tears, forcing herself not to cry or show weakness right now. Instead, she pushed back the right side of his bangs so she could look him straight in the eye. Letting his bangs fall back down with a smile barely on her face, her hand moved down the braid she'd left him and she grabbed the tied off end, her hand still shaking.

"Just...if you don't want me, then fire me," she said, turning herself back to work. Undertaker didn't know what to say to this. He couldn't read her emotions or even resonate with what was happening inside her mind. The severed connection made him feel uncomfortable.

Vivian refused to talk to him until she had to for the rest of that day. The girl was barely holding herself together as Undertaker noticed while she collected the money from a customer. He even asked if she was all right, and she replied that she was okay, just a little tired.

Closing time meant that she could go home, and she promptly packed up her things and left the establishment as soon as the drawer was counted.

"Vivian," Undertaker called, making her stop at the doorway just as she was about to leave his sight. "Five years, I promise."

"O-okay..." Vivian left the shop. Tonight, she almost felt sorry for herself, falling for this grim reaper. Falling for a grim reaper in the first place was dreadful enough it seemed. But, he was retiring. Whatever that meant.

Her family asked over and over why she didn't bring home any money and she explained that her boss had wanted a new wardrobe for her first, so he bought her a few things which she had to work for in exchange. The lie wasn't meant to keep for much longer, and VIvian thought she'd have to start selling items off, even if it pained her to do so. He'd already gotten her so many nice things, which he must have either traded or bought or gotten from some source or another. How were reapers paid anyway? she wondered to herself as she climbed into bed.

Tonight, there was nothing to be done about a rumbling stomach. There was no food until tomorrow when her mother and brother were paid from their jobs. Her younger sister slept soundly in the next room, probably full from school lunch today. After a few more tears fell from her face, Vivian let herself rest on the pillow and upon the rough mattress laid out for her since she was 10 years old.

Undertaker locked the shop firmly this time and after dividing up the bills for the building, water supply and customer orders, he found out that the shop was actually making a nicer profit than he'd previously expected. His customers were frequent enough, and he was even able to catch wind of some of London's latest gossip stories, including mysterious murders.

The queen's coin was worthless to him, so he'd boughten things for Vivian with his own reaper's salary, which was already high enough to make him start the business all over again if he really wanted to. Tonight, his To Die list was covered with victims of disease and murder, as messy as the people committing the crimes.

With each soul came a desire to look up at the street signs. He was looking for an opening in which to stop at Vivian's house. An envelope had been prepared for her because after all, it was nearing the end of the work week. Ah yes, her family must be questioning by now what kind of job she had, considering all she'd bring back with her were material items, now that he really thought about it.

The souls were like nothing to him. In fact, even with Vivian on his mind all night, he still managed to reap every soul on time and return the cinematic records to the library just in time to catch about eight hours of sleep.

Stopping outside the library, Undertaker decided to sacrifice one of those hours. That last stop seemed extremely important right now, and as he made his way through the back alley, he thought about Vivian's progress in the shop, which had grown remarkably since she'd begun. It had only been a few weeks, but she learned more about what the customer wanted. Not so much decorating the dead that came through, but coffin sales and fittings were becoming one of her strong suits.

For that, he felt she could not go unnoticed whether she liked him or not at the moment. Getting into the house couldn't have been simpler, but just as he set down the letter and envelope...

Chilling steel brushed against his throat, and another came around to threaten one of his kidney regions. He smirked, drawing his death scythe.

"How thrilling," he said, breaking the grasp and spinning himself around, but he was met with nothing but the wind's gale through the bedroom window. Checked the ceiling, checked the fireplace, checked even under the bed, but his attacker must have been somewhere else in the house.

The door was open, but it had been like that since he'd waltzed his own way inside. He pulled back the covers of the bed to discover pillows lying there. No Vivian.

His head shot to the door way and he was ready to dash and find her immediately.

"So it _is_ you sneaking about my room while I'm asleep," her voice was a signal that was more than okay. Turning, he found her hanging upside down outside of her window.

"How on earth did you manage that?" Undertaker asked.

"How kind of you to worry for me," Vivian said, swinging herself back inside. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"No one ever expects death, my dear," he said. "At least, no one like you."

Vivian stared at him for a while longer, taking in his presence before approaching him again, brushing the white hair from his face to show his eyes. As she reached for his death scythe, he swung his arm away.

"Ah ah," he said.

"No no," she replied. "I just wanted you to put it down." She guided his hand to drop the death scythe at her bedside. Swallowing, Vivian ran her fingers through his hair, smirking as she found the braid still embedded within his hair.

"So unfair," Undertaker sighed, grasping her shoulders.

"Hm?"

Undertaker drew her in and clashed his lips against hers, which she most gratefully accepted. Vivian put her arms around his neck, falling into his arms and allowing him to hold her up completely, but when he couldn't take it anymore, he backed her slowly to the bed. Practically tripping onto the bed, Undertaker wouldn't allow himself to be separated from her, not when she allowed him to get this close.

They'd made love between the sheets of her bed, ending in sweat and satisfaction between both of them, and they lay close to one other still. Undertaker turned to face her.

"You were rather inconsolable all day," he remarked. "And then I come here and look where we end up. What's going on, Vivian? Tell me."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Sometimes, it's just frustrating. You're never around. And when I work, I can't bring it upon myself to sell anything you give to me, but my family needs that money. And, and as much as I love you, it's just...more difficult than I expected."

"I told you, only five more years," Undertaker replied.

"That's a lot for a mortal," Vivian refuted.

"Well then," Undertaker said. "We're just going to need a way to make you immortal."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"What?" Vivian gasped.

"You hear me. Of course, you couldn't be completely immortal, you could still die and you'll need sleep. You just need to answer one question," Undertaker said.

She looked up at him.

"How much do you want it?"

"If it means I can be with you and away with this life and obligations," Vivian said, laying her head on his pale white chest. "Then...I'd want that more than anything."

"Really?" he asked. "Then, there are a few things I must take care of first. I promise to bring you the Queen's coin until I'm ready."

Vivian hadn't the slightest idea what he was planning, but when she woke the next morning, Undertaker was gone and her brother was shaking her to wake up, reminding her that she had to go to work, but Vivian sighed, brushing him off for a while. She changed into the black dress Undertaker had boughten for her along with the crystal choker that reminded her of his long hair.

Upon opening the shop, she found that business was rather dead today. There was a service this afternoon for a deceased and the coffin with the body was to be delivered at four o'clock this evening, but so far that was the most action she'd been seeing today. Undertaker waltzed his way into the shop around noon from the back door, seeing Vivian cleaning around the coffins nearly ready to drop herself.

He came up from behind her, wrapping his long sleeves around her waistline and that's when she just let herself fall back against him, closing her eyes.

"Tired?" he asked. "Lie down in the back room."

"Not much business today, but you might want to deliver a body around four. They have to burry _someone_," she replied. Undertaker lifted her into his arms and checked the listings.

"Ah, that would be most helpful," he said, mostly to himself as he set her down to sleep in the back room. She'd opened the shop even though he hadn't expected her to. Opening the shop was pretty much whenever he pleased to do business, even though there was a sign explaining the hours of operation in the front window.

But Vivian kept to the time, and since last night, Undertaker couldn't dispute her fatigue. While she slept, Undertaker delivered the coffin and began the nightshift at the reaper association, weaving his way to the higher ups.

"I'd like to schedule a reaping," he requested. "I believe an error must be corrected immediately."

He'd gone about his shifts, collecting the souls of the dying and viewing a few cinematic records. It was a slow night, giving management time to report back to him. A reaper met him during his last soul collection for the night, stating that his request was approved by the board after his written statement.

Undertaker had written out a report stating that a certain soul was to be collected, but that she had not been at the place at the time of her supposed death. He cleared the fact the soul was planning to jump but changed her mind. His searching for the soul led into a conversation with her, upon which she'd figured out what he was and it was difficult to keep her quiet. Placing her in the asylum wouldn't help any and since no one believed her anyway, but he felt she should be compensated for the higher ups error in her death judgement.

After his statement about his new shop and his upcoming retirement, Undertaker had convinced the board to reschedule her reaping back into his hands. After making a trip to a few herbal medicine shops, Undertaker wrapped up his shift and clocked out on time.

The next morning, Undertaker met Vivian in his shop, death scythe in hand. He threw her a bag of the pittance he promised her.

"Sorry, had to take a cut. You'll be needing a few things in the near future," Undertaker said as she saw exactly how much he'd given her. "Meet me in this shop early tomorrow. We've a few things to discuss."

Vivian continued working diligently for him, wondering what was going to happen to her. This was a deal with Death itself. She knew who he was, what he did, and she couldn't expect no consequence from such knowledge. After wrapping up in the shop and Undertaker's leaving early for a shift, Vivian reached home with the coin she'd been given, which was enough to keep the family fed for a while.

"What do you do for him?" her brother asked one night.

"I make sales," she responded. "It's his business, but it's a small shop. I didn't set my paycheck."

"He pays quite generously," Vivian's mother replied. "More than what your brother knows."

"Oh shut it! I work hard."

"At what? Vivian's bringing in more than the two of us combined."

"Well that's not my fault for finding a job at the docks then."

"Find another."

"Nothing is ever good enough for you."

This went on for hours until Vivian walked herself upstairs and changed into nightly attire. Looking out her window, she wondered if reaping was a sickening job. Without knowing the age of a grim reaper, she'd no idea how long Undertaker had been doing this job. A grim reaper with white hair, he must've been around for a very long time.

His death scythe was most curious, and she found herself wondering whose skeleton was attached to the it. As she sat by the fireplace, she felt the window crack open, but she didn't stir.

"Pardon my late intrusion."

Undertaker displayed the ball gown in front of the fireplace. It was delicate with jewels of crystal and amethysts upon the bodice and the sleeves were short. The dress came all the way to the floor. She even had a matching choker to wear with it.

"It's...pink," was all she said, staring at it.

"Try it on," Undertaker beckoned her, leaving her to change into it. As she stepped into it, the dress was a perfect fit for her. Undertaker returned to tie the corset, laying her hair in front of her shoulders. After clasping the choker to her neck, Undertaker let her look into the mirror.

"You look lovely," he said.

"Why do I have to wear this?" Vivian asked. "Surely it's not for the shop."

"Not for the shop, for the council."

"The council?" Vivian asked.

"Yes, if I'm going to present a mortal to the Grim Reaper Dispatch Association, she best be going as the Queen herself."

Undertaker leaned over her shoulder a while longer, telling her that tomorrow night, he would take her after his shift; plus, she had to be up early to meet him at the shop. Vivian sighed. This was a lot to take in.

"There's no going back once you do this," Undertaker warned. "Make sure you know exactly what you're doing."

That was the problem. As Undertaker left her house, Vivian changed out of the dress and kept it lying on the only chair in her room. She loved him. What more could be said? He seemed to love her, but his feelings were always near unreadable to her. But this was dealing with Death himself. And who are the council?

Usually, the vows were 'until death do they part'. What did that mean now? Do they actually part in death? Undertaker was already dead...sort of. He never seemed to eat anything substantial, so food must be optional. His body functions, so she supposed he was alive enough.

Vivian continued picking at these thoughts as she lay down to sleep.

She met him early the next morning, wondering what this was about, and for once, he was on time and not hiding from her view.

"You would give up this life...for me?" Undertaker asked once more. Vivian nodded.

"Yes I would," she replied. "What was it you wanted to discuss?"

"I need you to understand that by going through with this means you can have no contact with your living relatives. You will not be a grim reaper, but you will be immortal. I will present you to the council, and since your time of death was incorrect and you interacted with me, they may compensate you for their error.

"In the meantime, get used to dressing like a high class woman. If you're going to be with me, then that is what you will become and how I will present you. I will accept nothing less. Pardon my short change at the moment."

Undertaker placed a few silver coins into Vivian's hand, saying that he'd made all the necessary preparations and was making final touches on the rest of whatever it was he had planned. Vivian was giving a royal blue dress to wear for today, matching with her crystal necklace already. Undertaker always seemed to notice she wore that necklace very often.

She snickered as she ran her fingers along the braid in his hair she'd put there.

"You still have this..."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm sure you've worked a few shifts and had a few close calls since I did this, yet it seems in perfect condition, as though you've never touched it once," she noted.

"That's because I haven't," Undertaker said. "Though, I may ask that you recreate it on the day I present you."

"Why don't you wear your glasses that much?" Vivian asked. "It's obvious you need them."

"When I retire as a grim reaper, I must return them. I'm attempting to get by without them," he replied. "It's an adjustment."

"What happens when I'm presented to the board?" Vivian asked. Undertaker laughed a little.

"All right, last question for you today," he said. "You just need to show me that you trust me. The rest is mine to bear."

She swallowed, keeping the answer as it was, as much as she wished for an elaboration. Work was fine, and closing up the shop looked as normal as any other night when she retrieved the keys from her pocket.

The sound of a switchblade hit her ears, but it was too late. The metal had already touched her neck, her back was turned. Whomever it was, they wanted the keys to Undertaker's shop. Who on earth would want to break into a coffin shop unless they needed money? Even then, it was a rather low target on the scale of the bank just around the corner.

Closing her eyes, Vivian didn't know if this was her new day to die, but from the sound of Undertaker's voice today, she wouldn't have suspected it. This man wasn't going to kill her.

"Ugh, what the hell do _you_ want?" she asked, turning her body to face the man with the knife to her throat. She was right, he was too much of a coward to kill a lady, even amongst the criminal night-lined sky. Dressed nobly and speaking to a man in this manner. Totally Vivian.

He demanded the keys again and the cash, but already he was quivering before her. She could feel the shaking of his hands as he dragged her a few meters away from the shop, still threatening her with the knife, but Vivian was no longer scared of any attempt at her life.

Leaning into the blade and smirking, Vivian could already feel herself letting go.

"How pathetic. A man would fail to hit a lady, how noble of you, though your advance was rather poor I must say," she was but a few centimeters from the man's face, and he'd been managing to hang on and continue to threaten her, but not once was a stab attempted or a throat slit.

From behind him, a silver curved blade emerged and wrapped around his throat, and the man was forced to reel himself backwards, straight into Undertaker's body. Vivian thought he'd been long gone on shift by this time of night.

"Not today," Undertaker said. The man was let go, but he tripped over a hole in the road, smashing his head a good one on the stone. Undertake watched him, as did Vivian while he struggled for himself and used a wall to proper himself up again.

Undertaker held Vivian back from going over to him, and the man himself led to his own demise. Another man, in quite a hurry, accidentally ran over Vivian's threat, whizzing passed like nothing happened, and then the man laid there to struggle. Undertaker thrusted his death scythe forth and took his soul right in front of Vivian.

"There," he said, closing his book and looking back at Vivian. "My rounds are done for the next hour or so."

"Okay," was all she could say.

"Thanks for locking up," he said, securing another payment into her hands. "That's the rest of what's left."

He walked her home, reassuring her that the entire thing would be just fine, but he never told her a specific date on when this meeting was taking place.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

As much as she disliked pink, the dress didn't make her look completely horrid. Vivian dressed in it the next morning and reported to work as usual, handing over a few coins to her family to keep buying food for the night and paying the rest of living expenses.

The moment she opened the shop, Undertaker was there straightaway, speaking to a man in a suit and tie, and beside him was a child with charcoal black hair and bright green eyes.

"Ah, perfect," Undertaker looked over his shoulder. "I must say, you look rather fetching in that."

"Good morning," Vivian replied.

"Come here," Undertaker said, and she obliged. He turned to the two.

"This is Vivian Elizabeth Addams," he introduced her, though she found it rather odd that he'd said her full name like that. "Vivian, meet Albert and William Spears."

She extended her greetings, noting that William wasn't exactly the most sociable boy, so she inferred the situation as someone needing a coffin fitting or a delivery of one of their guests. Undertaker gave a smirk.

"Something of the like," he replied. "I believe the coffin is in the back. Would you fetch that for me?"

Vivian walked into the back, looking for the last name of Spears, but there was no coffin bearing that last name, nor an order under such. Turning her head, Vivian looked around some more, until she stumbled across something she was unsure should have been stumbled across.

Leaning upon one of the shelves was engraved with an inscription of her full name. The coffin was a shinning black with silver writing in a handwriting that would astound anyone who read the side. There was no cross on the lid, but a silver lining around the edges. She took a few moments, staring at it, unbelieving that it was right in front of her. Her name, the color, everything was elegant and beautiful about this coffin. A silver rose was printed next to her name on both sides. This was a custom coffin, exactly her size, and just subtle on the side of becoming perhaps too fancy for one such as herself.

She felt it. She felt him, and she closed her eyes.

"I...understand," she said.

"Good," replied Albert. "I shall bare witness."

"And I as well," William said.

"Vivian," she heard Undertaker's voice and it was right behind her. "Trust me."

"What do you want me to do?" Vivian asked, her eyes still closed.

"Turn around," he said and she did. "Now, take my hands..."

She looked to see that his hands she stretched out to meet hers. He didn't even have his death scythe. Taking his hands, she took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Don't let go until I tell you," he said, giving a nod behind her. A few words were exchanged in Latin after she'd taken both of his hands into her own from the two that just walked in. There was a clicking sound and a piercing ache in her back, extending to her chest.

She shut her eyes, trying to conceal the pain, but she never let go of him. Vivian gave one cry before the pain was too intolerable to even allow her to speak. Grasping him tightly, she was hoping he wouldn't tell her to let him go just yet.

"Look at me," he said, and she managed to bring her head up, noticing that his bangs were being held back by a gale force that had surrounded the room. He knew she was in a lot of pain, but all he did was hold her hands.

"Let go," he said, though she didn't want to. He let go of her hands, breaking their connection, and that's when Vivian realized she was barely able to move.

"You may close your eyes," he said. She did so, but she could still hear the drawing of a death scythe. There was a cry, but it wasn't hers. Pain persisted into her back and to her heart like she'd been stabbed over 1,000 times.

But, it all just disappeared, nearly as soon as it had begun, though it felt longer. Catching her breath without pain was a great relief to her, but her vision was blurry.

"I can't...see," she said. "It's very...fogged."

"Here," Undertaker said, placing a pair of glasses on her face. "That should do nicely."

Royal purple frames in a cat-eyed lens provided her with a clear picture of what was around her. There was a circle on the floor and the person across from her was on the floor, disappearing into ashes.

"Oh my God!" Vivian exclaimed.

"It's all right, he knew this would happen," William said, looking up at her. "He never liked being here anyway. Most ungrateful."

"But he was...he was your-Will!" Vivian exclaimed.

"It's perfectly all right, I knew," William said, and she looked back Undertaker.

"Let us have a look at you," he said, holding up a mirror, and she walked towards it. Her eyes had changed color into the same green as William's and Undertaker's. Her skin was always pale, so if it had become any more pale she didn't notice.

"You look lovely," he said. "Now, I need to tell you a few more details before we get started with your funeral..."

"My what!" she exclaimed. "Oh...right." She remembered that doing this meant she had to everything go. That's why Undertaker had the coffin made, but he soon explained that the coffin sitting before them would not be buried underground. That was hers to keep, after all she paid for it herself. Undertaker went over the accident staged and the body that was actually going to be buried was just a body that resembled her, nothing more, and it was fashioned by the reaper's society.

The utmost rule was that she was not allowed to reveal who she really was for the next 100 years or until all her immediate relatives were in the ground. Since the aging process of her body was slowed immensely, none of her future generations would suspect it was her, especially if there wasn't so much of a picture of the family to reference back to. Of course, everyone else in this new world would know exactly who she was.

Other grim reapers would know of her existence and the fact that she would not collect souls like a regular reaper would do every night or take a shift. Nope, she was the exception, not so much the rule, since she was being compensated for mental scarring and a mistake done by the dispatch association. Undertaker had pulled a few strings to make this happen, so there was no turning back on the deal now.

With her details filled out, Undertaker seemed to have planned the most marvelous funeral for her, and she wasn't even really dead! It was an act for the time being.

"You...you prepared all of this for me?"

"You said you wanted this," he said. "I'm willing to give it to you." As difficult as it was to beat, Vivian knew she'd wanted this, she wanted him, and she wanted to watch as people changed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"So...can I ask you a question?"

"Anything you desire."

"How did you get these?" Vivian traced the lines of his neck and along his face. "Because I know you, I can tell you I've also noticed scars along your chest and one on your right leg. I want to know how you got them."

"A reaper's work is of quite a unique nature. Some people really don't wish to pass on. Then there are the demons to consider."

"Who gave you this one?" She traced around his neck.

"Another reaper. A long time ago, when a few of us didn't get along, he took me straight on with a hedge clipper death scythe. Ran me near to asphyxiation, he did. Blood everywhere."

Vivian gasped, suddenly withdrawing her hand from around his neck.

"Water under the London bridge. He's long since passed. A demon bested him."

"And this one?" She slightly lifted his hair in order to fully take in the sight across his face.

"Lost souls. Even I've had my share of more than I can chew."

"And they got your face with what? A knife?"

"We could say that. It doesn't matter anymore," Undertaker said, wrapping an arm around her. "All I care about are my alliances, this shop, and you."

"Still, it's got to be difficult to forget things like that."

"I'm a reaper. Some people already don't like the fact that I merely exist. I'm bound to a few fights. For being as old as I am...why does this bother you so much?"

"I was only curious as to where you got them. They are part of you, and I don't know. I love you, so I want to know..." Vivian was trailing off a little.

"Then you have your answer," Undertaker replied. They'd been lying in bed together, and Undertaker turned away for a few moments. "However, you don't seem too thrilled."

"I just thought that maybe you were in some sort of war or something like that. It's just not the answer I expected. That doesn't mean I'm disappointed," Vivian said. She felt around the scars again.

"They're just, I don't know, fascinating to me. I know you can't die by mortal hands, but the scars almost make me want you more."

"Really?"

"Yes. I can't explain it, but I feel like your life is more fragile than even _you_ think." Vivian felt the scars some more, leaning against his shoulder and being sure to stay close. Silently, she kissed his neck only once. He leaned his head down to face her.

"My my, what a treasure I've got here," he said. She could see his eyes through his white hair, and all she could decipher from his eyes was a soft gaze and that look he always gave her before thing were about to become more...physical.

"You chose this life, and I suggest you never forget that. A few scars are inevitable."

"I don't think you want me to experience what you did to get those scars, so I'm not worried over a few scratches I might encounter."

She'd done it. She read Undertaker like a cinematic record, clear as day. Not that he personally minded, but it was a bit surprising.

"You are correct. If it is in my power, not a scar will be placed upon your body. Not even in death. On this I give you my most sincere word."

"Good," Vivian said, coming in closer. "Now I can say I've had the pleasure of Death embracing me."

"You will be the end of me." Undertaker shrouded her among the dark sheets and his black robe.


End file.
